


Prisoner of Love and Desire

by basterbines



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read, Yandere, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basterbines/pseuds/basterbines
Summary: [ The fatalism that goes around in circles //  Wherever it leads us, let's dance together. ]Where an engaged Sylvain cannot bear the idea that you, the daughter of a wealthy merchant will get married as well someday. Takes place after the events of Azure Moon. Sylvain does not marry anyone from Garreg Mach. Mentions of Dimitri/Marianne.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	1. [ Meetings. ]

These royal meetings were always a stuffy affair. You disliked being here as the next person as people around spoke politics, but as the daughter and heir to the biggest fabric export in Faerghus, you had to sit in for your father and keep yourself up to date the latest tariffs and laws. You let out a near-silent groan, exhaling in frustration as you listened to the nobles argue amongst themselves. The war may have ended several months ago, but there was no way that peace would last if there was no order. Even your newly crowned King looked bored, judging the way his eyelid fell lower and lower as time passed on. His wife Marianne is already fast asleep, leaning on him for support. You stretch out your legs under the table, hoping no one has caught you, but a soft chuckle from your right snapped you right back into an upright sitting position in the chair you occupied. A familiar head of fiery-red hair made you relax. You roll your eyes, and quickly glance back at the two nobles fighting about the latest import tariff rates.

_Sylvain_ was a familiar name to you. Occupying the northernmost territory closest to Sreng, the Gautier family boasted blood of one of the Ten Elites and one of the Relic weapons, Sylvain was their new head of the house and the one responsible for defending the northern border after his father. Many uncomfortable dinners and winks from him as children reminded you of that same feeling that sunshine gave you. Sylvain had only given you warmth while your upbringing was strict, knowing how cold his must’ve been in comparison.

“________? What’s your opinion on taxing all Aldrestrian goods higher for the next few months?” a voice rings out, and you tear your stare away from the newly-appointed Margrave. 

“Personally, I believe an Adrestrian-only tariff would only make relations between kingdoms much rougher in the long-term, even if it’s for a number of months. Fabric production and most importantly, garments are at an all-time low with how Faerghus’s autumn and winter may shape up to be, and I don’t think the King’s subjects would be happy to shoulder the costs either.” your voice is monotone, bored as you voice your thoughts. “I may be wrong though.” 

Once the meeting adjourned for the day, you cannot wait to leave to get some fresh air. Hours of sitting in the atmosphere felt bone-crushing. Politics had never been your strong suit, and the position the council has left you after the war left you feeling out of place. Something was _missing._ You sigh out loud, planning the route you planned to take out of the palace for the day, idly thinking of the market you wanted to visit in the early-evening. The mere thought of spiced pumpkin bread had you salivating.

“Any more hanging around and your drool may hit the floor,” a friendly voice chuckles, and wipes away the drool with his glove. The kind eyes of Sylvain meet yours again, and you can’t help but blush red. The time spent at Garreg Mach and the war had done him well, you had to admit. You had to swat away the thought screaming in your mind. You were one of many who weren’t immune to his natural charm. The dark idea that he would even be interested in _you_ was one you kept to yourself. The only thing you had going for you was the fact your family came from money. You hated how you naturally tried to seek out his touches, but there was something that was terrifyingly electric about him. _You needed to stop. He was engaged._

“I- I was just thinking about what I was going to eat after that damned meeting. All that time and they couldn’t agree on a single thing today,” you sigh. “I’m starving.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes with you, and you couldn’t help but smile nervously. “I understand what you mean. These people do not bring the best in each other, much less Dimitri. As much was I would love for Dimitri to cut to the chase and decide for the kingdom, his rule isn’t solidified enough.”

You groan quietly, starting your route out of the palace for the day, hoping Sylvain will follow you along, and to your delight, he does. “Yeah, but speaking formally and listening to these… _idiots_ make me feel I’m being driven to the brink of insanity. I wish I could just… handle the trading and nothing like this.”

“Even so, being up-to-date with tariffs would benefit you, wouldn’t it?” Sylvain asks you, raising an eyebrow. “The price of fabric depends on the tariffs on the materials it takes to even make it.”

You shoot him a glare. “Don’t deny it. You thought it was boring being in a room full of clowns.”

“...True. I’m not going to lie to you.”

Somehow, Sylvain worms his way into your plans for the rest of the day, sitting across from you in a capitol pub. You cut delicately into your food, and Sylvain is just studying you as he picks at his own plate. You wrinkle your nose in distaste. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Sylvain only chuckles. “I was only wondering how someone like you hasn’t been married yet. Even with the war, I can only imagine your father’s insistence on you getting married for heirs to the trade.” His wording is chosen carefully, but behind his soft gaze for you hid a beast that growled animalistically at the idea that you had been swept off your feet by someone else that wasn’t _him_.

You cough, almost choking uncharacteristically on your food. “ _What?_ ” you hiss. “Well, he has gotten pushy over the years and it doesn’t make me at all comfortable with the idea,” your eyes harden in frustration. “The men of Faerghus are disgusting, and aren’t inclined at the idea that a mere _woman_ has more influence than them.” You take a tiny sip of your malt, trying to soothe your throat. “Even then, I’m seeing someone right now. It’s too early to tell.”

“Oh really? Who?” Sylvain asks, smiling brightly. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You look away. “It’s Elroy. Y’know, the son of the largest grain supplier at the moment.”

Sylvain nods, a dark anger bubbling up that he desperately tries to hide. “Interesting.” It was _so_ interesting to him, that he meets up with Elroy after walking you back to the villa you were staying in for the time being. It was just _so interesting_ to him that he doesn’t notice his own anger and possessiveness over you has him physically intimidating the other man, and that he had drawn his dagger, and slashing his throat that he realizes that he’s colored a shade he hasn’t seen in a while since the war that soaks his pristine white gloves.

_Red._


	2. [ White Tulips ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with high expectations of you feels like a vice around your neck, especially after Elroy's funeral.

Your eyes were always brilliant in the sun, Sylvain muses. You used to complain to him that your eye color seemed a bit too common for you to ever see them as special as he claimed for them to be, but there was no way you could change his mind with a statement like that. Even now with you staring off into space with bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep does he find them more exquisite than any gem he can buy. You’re obviously zoning out from the argument the same nobles are having, but no one expected you to listen after the empty seat across the table from you sits there menacingly.

Sighing, you fight the urge to fall asleep at the table under the early-morning sun, staring at the airy windows close to the ceiling of the palace. Your hair is neatly tucked into a braided updo with black ribbon carefully weaved in your hair, but has already begun to escape its confines as the meeting drags on. The blouse you were wearing was a crisp creamy white with a high neck, a stark contrast from the black high-waisted skirt you wore. You tried to fidget with the buttons on the wrists of the sleeves to keep yourself awake, but the longer you were awake the more you thought about how they discovered Elroy.

His body was crumpled up in an alleyway in the market, discovered by one of the bakers who was running their daily errands before the sun rose. His throat had been slit in a neat fashion, and the pool of blood trailing along the cobblestone showed he had not been dead for too long. 

This was a murder.

You cried at his coffin before he was buried with no idea _why_ you even were. You had never been too close with the heir of the grain merchant in the first place. He lived close to the capital his entire life while you lived on Gautier territory if you weren’t traveling with your family. You cried because it felt like the socially correct thing to do, as you had been courting him, even if it was in the beginning stages of courtship. Sylvain and his fiancee had comforting words to offer you and even a white tulip that was unexpected to see in Faerghus, as they were difficult to cultivate with how barren the soil was. Even their words and flowers felt empty as they wished you condolences along with his family. You gracefully accepted it all as you felt empty in your heart, everything was just second nature to accept. It was what everyone had expected of you.

Living in Faerghus had always riddled everyone down with expectations of what they were meant to do with their life. It was your hell in a sense. You were always expected to never talk out of turn and to eventually settle down with a family to ensure the business you were set to own had a future within yours. You were taught how to use the right fork, and how to debate others simultaneously, and you put on that front for those that expected it from you. You didn’t love Elroy. You probably never would. Gender roles in Faerghus seemed to always be a lot more conserative than the other two empires also on the continent. Seeing Ingrid betrothed to a man who she had little to no emotional connection in order to secure the chance of a crest and for her family’s survival all before the war? You couldn’t be her.

You wouldn’t want to be Sylvain either, given the chance. Margrave Gautier’s own cruelty to his older, crestless son was echoed within the territory, and later the stories of Miklan kidnapping women would shake you to your core. Sylvain was nothing more than a crest and a way to ensure his family’s survival and eventual protection from Sreng, just another sense of duty that weighed down upon him. It was always unspoken, the redhead had nothing but smiles and flowers to offer you when he visited the estate when you were younger, but the storm in his eyes he couldn’t at all hide spoke volumes.

You’re snapped back to the present, trying to clear your head of any unpleasant thoughts lingering in your mind. A hand carefully picks yours up with a comforting warmth that can only be Sylvain’s, and you try to fight the urge to melt at his touch like you’re some hormonal teenager. He leans in close to your ear. “If you need to leave for the day I think everyone would understand. You look like you haven’t been listening at all today.” he murmurs quietly, and you nod, sighing.

“Are you trying to find an excuse to leave?” you tease, glancing at him. He holds his hands up in resignation. “...Fine. Just...stay with me.” you whispered, rising out of your seat to make a weak excuse with Sylvain trailing behind you as you walk to carefully open one of the heavy wooden doors leading into the hallways. The two of you are silent as you make your way around the palace towards the gardens to hide from the prying eyes all around. Sylvain guides you to a wooden bench concealed behind several tall trees. You stretch out your limbs before you sit, flopping back onto the bench in a rather unladylike fashion, a wild contrast to your public image. Sylvain joins you, and cranes his neck up at the sky to watch several birds chirp happily in the trees. You stay like that for several minutes with him, before you find the nerve to speak. “Am I an evil person to tell you that I only cried at Elroy’s funeral because I thought it was the most socially acceptable thing to do?” you question quietly.

“Could’ve fooled me. I almost thought you were genuinely in love with him.” Sylvain mutters, pushing aside the fact that _he_ was the one that murdered Elroy that night. “But I don’t blame you. Not at all.”

“‘S just weird. I never thought I could ever settle down with him in the first place,” you muse. “No one wants me out of the sexism in their own mind that a woman cannot be running a full-scale market in several years. Besides money, I only have fleeting power and control to offer.” you’re rolling your ankles, hearing the light pops. “It’s a bad position to be in.”

Sylvain turns his head, his face inches from yours that makes you realize how loudly your heart must be beating from that one simple action. He was close enough to see the fine cotton threads of your blouse and the tiny lace that decorated the edge of the high collar. “What if said I was?” he asks you teasingly, flicking your forehead before getting up to look at the flowerbed of tulips carefully planted by a royal gardener. “I was always an eligible suitor.” He picks a white tulip, carefully removing the dirt and roots before giving it to you, making it the second time he had given you a white tulip.

 _But you’re engaged,_ you want to scream. _You shouldn't even be doing this with me._ “Please, your reputation precedes you, and it always seemed like you had a girl by your side no matter how many times I looked.” you roll your eyes as you accept the flower. “My father never liked that about you.” _I never liked that about you._

“That never stopped anyone before. Why not be another girl?” Sylvain muses, winking at you as you glance down at the engagement ring on his finger. His ring feels more like a handcuff chained to an iron ball as you stare at it, merely an empty promise to someone he didn’t care for. He hated it as much as you.

_This makes it all the worse. I don’t want to hurt someone else by doing this._

You wrinkle your nose. “I wouldn’t disgrace my family like that, even if I would like to see the look on their faces. Even after the war we don’t live in a world where love rules us.” you tuck a loose piece of hair framing your face behind your ear, signalling that you were done talking about this. You hated to cut off a conversation like this, but it was delving into places you didn’t want to think about for the time being. You wanted to return to the friendly merchant’s daughter who always had time for everyone, even if it wasn’t exactly the role you wanted.

“You’re right.” he trails off awkwardly, looking back up at the sky. The two of you are silent until you hastily make your leave, with feelings unaddressed and hearts torn in two in what to do.

_It isn’t fair._

It isn’t fair when he sees you walking around the market several days later with another man, laughing along to some shallow joke he must’ve made. The man is awkwardly charming around you, with messy black hair that makes him look like he was a raven ready to take flight. Sylvain can tell you’re bored as your laughter trails off with how your eyes glazed over, and you offer the man a warm smile as he guides you to a bakery, and that’s when Sylvain realizes he’s experiencing the same emotion he felt seeing Elroy’s eyes up close after you admitted you were seeing him.

_Rage._

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t help but follow the man home that night, and waited to strike again as a familiar scent began to return to his senses. It was a dull, metallic smell that his fiancee initially started complaining about when he returned from his duties from the war Edelgard had started so long ago and begun patrolling the Sreng border. She had insisted he take a bath before he returned to the bedchambers he had missed, despite knowing how tired he was, but she had described as a stench to him once when she carefully washed him.

It was what she could only describe as death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with a chapter 2. Will I finish this? We'll see :)
> 
> If anyone was wondering, yes this is based off the teamOS song, but with none of the weird incest implications. That was gross.


	3. [ Violets ] (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time and more dead men later, Sylvain gets pussy before killing another.

It seemed sick how routine it felt at this point with how everyone you saw would die in mere days. The rumors clung to you and had started to affect the trading your family overlooked. _The cursed heir,_ people called you, and you wanted to stifle a laugh every time you heard it uttered near you. The drama around such a title when you had a bloodline clean of the crest system seemed almost like a false honor. Investigations had be launched after every murder, but the only tie they could find was that you had simply courted them after multiple monitored nights with several royal guards. But, you began to grow accustomed to the cycle your life had become at this point. You cried the tears people expected you to have at every funeral, and Sylvain would comfort you with a white tulip and smiles each time. You had surrendered yourself to him each time, the lingering touches growing longer and longer when the two of you were on your own.

His fiancee did not like this at all. She was a sweet girl who lived on Gautier territory, born to livestock farmers. Fancying Sylvain’s flirting during the war and the recommendation to get engaged to her by his own _father_ had her running him to like a puppy, at the promise at a better chance at life with how hard and cold the ground could be some years. She had stopped coming to the funerals with him after fourth, after seeing how he looked at you compared to her. She had caught how he delicately cradled your hand in his, and the passion that blazed in his warm hazel gaze. It simply wasn’t her position to speak out against this treatment in public. You knew this, and it made it a major part of you feel miserable with how you had seemed to enrapture the Margrave more than his future wife.

But a small, cruel part of you did not care in the slightest. With your position of heiress to such a prominent merchant family, you were more free to be crass compared to the likes of her. Especially with the way Sylvain moaned your name softly in bed as you left long scratches on his back.

The sneaking around his fiancee didn’t start until after she stopped coming to the funerals with Sylvain. The cat and fox chase between the two of you that started at these funerals had begun to wear you down with how your luck in men seemed to lack. Sylvain clearly did not care about how his fiancee felt in comparison to you, and it didn’t take an idiot to see how different his gaze was when it came between the two of you. None of his friends took well to this new development, but this wasn’t the lowest Sylvain could reach at the time. It took a single touch on his shoulder for the two of you to sneak away and hide within the palace and fuck somewhere while your fifth dead suitor was being lowered into the ground for the final time.

It was sick. You knew this.  
Maybe you were just as sick as the rest of the nobles. No matter how domesticated you looked to prying eyes, there was something feral about you that couldn’t be tamed until you finally got what you wanted. While they had committed most of their atrocities on the battlefield not even a year ago, you were being more cunning about what you were doing.

“Your eyes are like the rarest gem, they sparkle in a way I cannot describe,” a brunette man tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you smile demurely. “You are simply fascinating. Maybe I will be the one that will break the curse that’s been put upon you.” Empty words flow from him that you’ll forget by evening, and you only chuckle softly. The apparent “curse” made you all the more appealing to men, enchanted at the idea that _they_ were different from the rest that died. After all, there was nothing tying you to the murders besides courting, and each death made you all the more enticing.

“What makes you different from the rest of them?” you murmur, your eyes softening in such a false, practiced way. “Many have said that yet none have been successful in their attempt.” you were growing tired of him already, knowing how he only saw you as a mountain that could be conquered. Besides, he offered nothing beneficial to you and your family besides words that anyone could string together like a simple necklace. He simply saw the benefits of marrying someone in a higher status and didn’t care to know you. This particular one had traveled all the way from Galatea territory to try and woo you, prioritizing that over the reconstruction that Ingrid had begun there now that the war was over. He looked like a charmer at first glance, but up close he was just… so boring to even look at. Your mind had already started wondering what Sylvain must be up to today, as the man in front presented you with a bunch of white violets. 

_Let’s take a chance on happiness._

You smile dryly, and accept them.

Sylvain had a way of finding you on these boring outings with these men, and this time was no different as you strolled leisurely in the small market outside of the Gautier estate. Light fingers on your shoulder had you turn around idly, smiling brighter when you realized it was him. The man you didn’t care to learn the name of looks irritated as your face lights up as Sylvain greets you. “Ah, Margrave Gautier,” you greet in a manner that noted how familiar you were with him. “Isn’t the spring breeze especially nice today?”

“It is quite nice. It’s almost a nice comparison to how it feels to see you like this,” he grins, and you can feel yourself losing yourself in that warm hazel gaze. Sylvain sees the white violets in your hands and he has the urge to laugh out loud at the flower choice. Such a basic choice would never win you over that easily. “I must get going though. You should stop by more often.” he nods, winking at you before he leaves, already making plans to follow the man around that night. You would never find comfort in a man that was so simpleminded.

The rest of the outing drags on, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he looks over the goods that Gautier territory had to offer in comparison to Galatea. You allow him to walk you home, stopping at the gates, ready to give him a generic goodbye before you never saw him again. “May I be so bold and kiss you?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“You may not. Please be safe on your way back.” you give him a thin smile to veil your irritation as your butler opened one of the front doors to your home. Usually you tried to not be as cold as you were being now, but the fact he had prioritized the idea of wooing you over helping with the reconstruction that needed to be done after the war made you want to wretch onto him. You step carefully into the modest manor you called home, waiting for the heavy door to make its satisfying _click_ before you began to scream about how annoying he was to your servants. You placed the bunch of white flowers onto a table under the mirror in the hallway, and you began to take out the multiple pins holding your updo. “I am so _sick_ of being treated like a damned commodity,” you seethe to your butler. “Does anyone _not_ take my time for granted over some stupid outing despite knowing what happens?”

“The only person allowed to do that is Margrave Gautier, if I remember correctly.” your butler comments dryly, and you ignore the disapproval in his voice as everyone in your home knew what kind of infidelity happened in the walls of the manor. You had allowed your staff much more freedom than the average noble and merchant families, and in turn they kept your secrets behind closed doors and were much more loyal. “Will he be visiting tonight?”

You sigh, in a manner that would’ve been seen as childish. “I don’t know if I want to see him right now. I just want to be left alone. If he does come, you’re free to do what you want. I’ll handle him and myself for the night.” you respond dully. “Besides, I think you and the rest of the staff would love a night off from the nonsense I put myself in.” he nods, and you calmly walk back to your room.

Sylvain had a knack for climbing up walls late at night. You’d question his libido if he scrambled up so easily each time if he were anyone else, but this was someone who was known as a skirt chaser. You don’t even acknowledge his presence until he raps gently on the windows of your balcony, and you let him in without a second thought, snapping the doors open for him. He kisses your forehead, and the small act of affection has your heart thumping in your chest already. “You should leave your balcony doors open for me,” he chuckles, and you roll your eyes.

“We barely just hit the middle of spring where it still gets cold some nights, stupid.” you chide, embracing him. His hands trail down your back, and stop at your waist as the two of you silently stay there, wishing for another outcome that would never happen. The cat and fox chase the two of you had never truly ended, as you liked to pretend like Sylvain didn’t hold some kind of power against you in your own bed, but the nightly visits had come more and more frequently, and he knew your weak spots well.

The two of you fell into bed, and you can only pray he doesn’t look at you with that gaze of his. You hated it sometimes. He had taken off his engagement ring when he came to visit you, as a polite way of not reminding you that he was to be married in just a few months, at the start of autumn. Your heart ached at this fact, but even the idea that he would be tied down to someone he didn’t even care for was unbearable to think of. It was much easier to sate your sexual appetites on Gautier territory rather than at the royal palace, and you could be much louder, much to your joy.

Sylvain leads you to your own bed, his frame towering over yours as you lay on your back, staring back up in adoration at the Margrave. You help him with the buttons on his shirt, and pitch it some dark corner of your room. No words had to be spoken between the two of you at this point, as Sylvain leaned in for a deep kiss, his hands trailing higher and higher up your thighs, pushing up your delicate nightgown as it got in the way. You whimper in anticipation as Sylvain’s kisses get lower and lower before he removes your panties. His fingers dip into your pussy carefully, and you moan louder for him. “You’re always so ready for me, huh?” his teasing tone makes you flush. “Why are you so embarrassed? I never said it was a bad thing, and besides, it’s definitely not the first time you’ve opened your legs for me.” You instinctively close your legs, but he uses a knee to keep them separated for him. “Shy tonight, are we?”

You turn away, looking anywhere that isn’t him as he works his fingers into you, rewarding his ears with your soft whimpers. “I was thinking about you all day,” you admit quietly. “That guy made me sick to my stomach to even be around and he wasted my time.” Sylvain cocks an eyebrow as he thumbs your clit lightly, and you cry out.

“Are you really going to talk about another man while my fingers are in you?” he questions possessively, and you let out another pathetic whimper as he uses his other hand to wrench your head to face him as he continues to finger you a little rougher. “You have some nerve. Maybe that’s why I find you cute.” he carefully avoids any kind of romantic confession, as the two of you don’t need another reminder of how fucked it was the two of you saw each other like this. The lingering gazes already spoke volumes as he meets yours. You look helpless under him like this, letting him do this to you, but the soft glimmer in your eyes revealing this was what you wanted all along. “You’re pathetic for waiting until the two of us got back to Gautier territory to fuck again like this.” he teases as he hungrily leans in for another kiss, and you’re more than willing to meet his lips. His fingers thrust in you just a bit faster and began to crook at an angle that has you gasping under him with the constant stimulation to your clit. 

Sylvain had a tendency to be a tease, but when it came to you, he let you come as many times as you wanted, citing that the way you looked when you came undone was adorable. Tonight was no exception, as the way you were digging your nails into his arms and how your limbs froze up in pleasure gave him more satisfaction as he felt you grow wetter under his touch. “I am pathetic, and you’re awful for making me like this,” you murmur, panting. “You’re an awful man, Sylvain.”

He smirks, leaning in for another kiss as he takes his fingers out of you. “Is that your way of admitting you’re just as depraved as me?” he quips, holding up his fingers covered in your juices to the candlelight. “And yet you’re the one that came that hard around my fingers.” He laps at his fingers, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You’re lucky you taste so good.” You flush in embarrassment, but let him lean in for another kiss as he unzips his pants free his cock.

“Why do you always have to say such embarrassing things while we fuck?” you roll your eyes, and you instantly regret it as Sylvain works himself in you at a much quicker pace than usual that has you crying out. The pleasure was crippling, and Sylvain grins at the satisfaction of seeing you so helpless. The two of you knew that you were resilient as you were intelligent, but there was something so entertaining to see your expression change from something that he could only give you. He gives you a moment to realign yourself before he literally plowed you in your own bed. He lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder before winking, and begins to thrust in you.

You cry out with how deep Sylvain’s cock seemed to reach in you with every bone-crushing thrust, and subconsciously clenched down on him in a way that had him groaning. He always made it a priority that you came before he ever did, and his stamina hadn’t diminished after the war. Reaching down to toy with your clit with the rough pad of his thumb had you crying out louder than you had before, unable to keep quiet with only your will to hold yourself together as you began to shatter. The unnatural shake of the leg on his shoulder letting him know you came as he continued to thrust. “Do you think you can give me another one?” he coos at you, and you want to slap him with how he’s looking at you with adoration, but can’t help how he’s doing a number to your body with how he’s touching you on top of the way he’s thrusting. He rubs at your clit with a little more force, and you claw at his arms at the overstimulation as he shoves you towards another climax, following you after.

There’s silence, as the two of you try to catch your breath, and you can’t help but wrench Sylvain back down for another kiss. Your heart feels tender, wishing he could stay for the rest of the night, but him risking it to even sneak out to your home to do this was awful enough. You’re pushing the negative thoughts out of head as Sylvain pulls out of you, studying his strange expression as he pulls his pants back up. You grimace at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, but you sit back up on your bed, watching him search for his shirt you had thrown somewhere in the room. He silently dresses himself, and without looking at you, he throws out a strange statement.

“We postponed the wedding.”

Your heart stops. “What are you talking about? _Your_ wedding?” you question, shocked as you begin to mentally reel. “Are you out of your _mind_?”

Sylvain sighs, throwing his head up to look at your ceiling. “I might be. We’ve been sleeping in separate rooms as it is, and I know she isn’t stupid enough to know what’s going on between us.” _But she won’t say anything._ He leaves the same way he came in, and you’re left to the storm brewing in your head for the rest of the night.

It hurts him to leave like this. It hurts that he has to let you slip through his fingers because he doesn’t have to heart to break off his engagement first. This way of killing your suitors was the only way he could think of to make sure you were always willing to be with him. Sylvain doesn’t know how you’d react to the shock of the discovery that he was responsible for the gruesome murders trailing behind you, but he couldn’t stop now and leave that man you had went out with that day alive for any longer.

And when his funeral happened in several days, he would be there with a white tulip to wipe your (false) tears away and be a source of comfort for you in front of everyone.

It was the best choice for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a sex scene is so gross and this is un-beta'd. If the sex scene felt awkward to read it was worse to write. I also didn't mean for this to be like over double the word count of the other two chapters combined but shit happens bro!!


	4. [ Sons of Gautier ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awkward end and explosive beginning to a new cycle.

You wanted to disappear under the watchful eye of Sylvain’s fiancee. The usually cheery woman had been sullen all throughout dinner, glaring at you as she cuts into her dinner. The atmosphere was almost damning knowing what you and Sylvain had been doing in the few months leaving up to this, and you wanted to crawl back into the earth and let the dirt slowly consume you. Sylvain for some reason was pretending that all was well, despite the fact that you and her hadn’t spoken much the entire dinner. Every minute that stretched on felt like an eternity that you couldn’t wait to break out of.

The silence was almost deafening to Felix and Ingrid, who had been exchanging glances between each other after noting how the energy in the room was almost negative, with their conversation attempts with Sylvain eventually trailed off with how tense the energy in the room felt.

You felt like shit being here.

As you stand up to leave the table and excuse yourself for the night, a cold voice rings out. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sylvain’s fiancee questions, cocking her head in a mocking manner that has shivers up your spine.

“I’m not feeling well, so I was planning to excuse myself for the night. It has been fun, but I have a long day ahead of me, if you don’t mind.” you explain lightly, your tone balancing on a tightrope as it falls silent.

“So another day of seeing a suitor that will end up dead then?” she laughs darkly. “Another night of seeing my fiance in your bed as he prolongs our wedding?”

The air in the room feels suffocating. You grip the top of the chair, trying to control your temper before you lose it. You knew the consequences your actions had, but there wasn’t much you could do at this point except face them head on. If you had rejected this dinner, you wouldn’t know what would happen to your reputation as it is. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through your teeth, heart racing as you force yourself to turn to leave. “I don’t know what issue you’ve built inside your head, but you have to leave me out of your delusions.”

You push open the door with a heavy groan of resistance. “Besides, you’re only a dog that his father could pawn off with no actual advantage for the territory, so why don’t you play your role in history?”

You hear a chair scrape off the floor, and then a quiet Sylvain shushing her as she screams rage-induced nonsense as you leave the Gautier manor. You knew you were a fool for even coming, but this was bound to happen, and there wasn’t much you could do.

For the next few weeks, you hear nothing from Sylvain. The summers in the Gautier territory meant it was slightly warmer for the next few months, and you refused to see any other suitors and throw your head into trading routes and suppliers. Rumors began to die down at the beginning of the summer, leaving you a bit more relaxed as the suitors knocking upon your door began to slow and allowed you to travel to the other territories to visit more trading routes.

Your heart ached for Sylvain, but there wasn’t much you could do. Seeing him now reminded you of the anguish of his fiancee, and you declined the invitation to his wedding. Faking happiness for the two of them now felt like an impossible chore when you knew neither of them must not be happy.

When autumn starts, you travel back to the Faerghus capitol. Sitting back in new meetings about taxes, the reconstruction process, and Dimitri’s overall rule occupied your mind easily, and made it easier to ignore the ring on Sylvain’s right hand. The plain gold band felt like it burned his finger, seeing yours bare and he wanted to vomit. You looked fine, despite the gargantuan effort it took to ignore him, and you’re only involved with the politics for your own business without sparing him even a single glance.

He wants you to look at him again with that passion in your eyes for only him, but he had chosen to follow what his father wanted. You were fine without him, despite the fact you had been close to him to only beg to breathe the same air as him. It was selfish, but the choices the two of you had been made. You mechanically entered and left every meeting for the next few weeks, only coming in after him and leaving before him.

Despite your calm demeanor, you were seething. A spark of rage at him and yourself every time you saw that damn ring on his finger made you want to gnash your teeth together and scream at him for putting his head down and agreeing to what his father had set course for what his life would continue to be. So, while you’re in the capitol, and you have a man offer himself at your feet, you agreed to court him. _It’s only to take your mind off of Sylvain_ , you promise yourself. _Besides, he didn’t choose you._

The thought burns at your stomach.

When you wake up to that suitor’s head on your doorstep, a dark part of you laughs. Finally, something to break the boredom.

Sylvain hears your scream as he wipes the blood off of his face, idly making his way back to his villa in the capital as the static begins to ring in his head again, and can only smile to himself as the cycle the two of you tried to break restarts with an even more explosive beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh I've had writer's block so sorry if this isn't that great!! I am trying my best, and I'm working on a one-shot I want to post soon that is wlw so yay :)


	5. [ Snapdragon ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Forget about me, Sylvain.” you plead quietly, fighting back the urge to sob in front of him. “Forget about anything you feel about me. Live your life as Margrave Gautier, raise the children you’re going to have, and only say hello to me as an acquaintance.”

It was selfish of Sylvain to think that you’d run back to him again after that last stunt.

Instead, you did the complete opposite. There was always someone accompanying you to and from the palace, your daily errands after, and even at your home in the capital. You had completely cut yourself off from everyone in an attempt to save your sanity. As a merchant’s daughter, you never had to sully your hands by learning magic or swordsmanship, much less participate in the War that had lasted for nearly five years. You had always been the prized songbird of your family, so intelligent yet naive when it came to the horrors of war. The rotting head of that suitor was all you could think about, how his eyes had rolled back into his head and the _stench_ of death that you had avoided for so long occupied your mind as you tried to keep it together.

You had lied to yourself and thought that whoever was hunting after your suitors was never going to do it in front of you, up until this point. It had always been someone else who had discovered them before they prepared the body for a proper burial. Guards were roaming all over the city, looking for the rest of his body as you continued to go to meetings, and hadn’t been successful for a week. Refusing to go to the funeral, you buried yourself in the soft sheets of your bed, unable to do anything except stare at the ceiling as you heard the seconds tick by all day as you wondered how his family was managing with the death of their son and where the rest of his body was.

Sylvain had never seen you so distressed. The circles under your eyes grew darker and darker as the days passed, and you didn’t want to speak, avoiding eye contact when you could. You couldn’t even relax in a meeting room full of guards and nobles with the training to defend you if your mysterious stalker were to attack you. You wanted nothing but to hide for the entire day, and at any opportunity, you disappeared with a guard.

He was growing impatient, expecting you to run _to_ him, and not _from_ him in his mind.

So he began to leave tulips at your doorstep.

He would watch you from the rooftop every morning as you opened your door cautiously to pick up and study the white flower he had left for you for the day. He smiles to himself every time you cautiously bring it into your villa, shutting your door silently as you get ready to attend another meaning the best you could. This becomes part of your routine for the next couple of weeks before Sylvain builds up the nerve to speak to you again.

“Hey, wait-!” you hear him one day after a meeting. A guard lifts his eyebrow in confusion, and you gently dismiss his concern as Sylvain approaches you. “Can we speak, _alone?_ ” the last word makes it a loaded question that hangs in the air between the two of you, and you nod, keeping the grim line on your lips hard as you glance over to the guard.

“Three paces away, and outside of the unlocked door if we end up in a room.” you quietly instruct, and the guard nods. You turn back to Sylvain. “Walk with me.”

The man nods, and you let him guide you to the royal library. The shelves loom over you in a rather ominous way that makes your anxiety flare up, and you grip your hands as a way to calm yourself. Your heels clack against the stone tiles, and you sit on top of a table with forgotten tomes from the last person who was here. Sylvain keeps a healthy distance away from you, and you’re growing more and more anxious as to why he’s even asking to talk to you. He stands across from you two paces away, and studies you before asking his question. You’re probably the most relaxed he’s seen you in weeks, but the underlying anxiety and paranoia that has eaten at you has taken a toll on you physically. The dark circles under your eyes haven’t alleviated in the slightest, noting you haven’t slept well since the incident.

“Are you okay?”

The question makes you want to laugh hysterically. After what had happened to you, he wants to pretend like you’re just suffering from just a regular bout of anxiety? You stare at him in disbelief before you open your mouth. “Are you fucking serious, Sylvain?” you ask callously, wringing your hands in a way that expresses more than your tone is revealing. “I haven’t slept well in weeks without flailing awake thinking I’m going to get murdered in my sleep, he haunts me when I do dream, and all I can think about is how someone is purposely traumatizing me? What do you think?” your bitter tone grows colder and colder. “I don’t even want to be here, but if I run back home, I feel like I’m going to be driven insane by myself.” your lip curls as you fight the urge to burst into tears of frustration. “The entire fucking kingdom is against me right now, and it’s taking a toll on both me and my family’s trade routes.”

Sylvain tries get closer to you, and you push past him to leave him. “Wait-” he begs, and you turn around to give him a stare that shatters him to his core.

“You’re ruining your own reputation being around me like this. Forget about me, Sylvain.” you plead quietly, fighting back the urge to sob in front of him. “Forget about anything you feel about me. Live your life as Margrave Gautier, raise the children you’re going to have, and only say hello to me as an acquaintance.”

He grabs your wrist, and you try desperately to wrench away from him, his brute strength overpowering you in a way that makes your heart rate skyrocket. “I can’t,” he murmurs, trying to stroke your face with his other hand in a comforting manner. “You’re all I think about. I was selfish to marry someone else to impress my family and my territory. I can’t even look at her without thinking of what you’re doing at that very moment.” his tone is gentle while his words are passionate, but something about the look in his eyes makes you want to run far away from the new Margrave. The light doesn’t reach his eyes the way you would recognize as passion, as _love_ as you’re trapped in his grasp. You can’t identify the exact feeling, but there was one thing you could feel from the storm in his hazel eyes.

_Sheer terror._

You try to wrestle out of his grip again, and fail as you begin to hyperventilate in his grasp. He pulls you in for a hug as you try hard to flail out of his grasp. “You can always come to me if you need anything,” he murmurs, and you want to sob, wanting nothing but to escape his grasp. “I’ll always be here for you.” Something dangerous hangs onto his words, and you want nothing to do with it as you finally push him away, trying to steady your breathing as you stare at him in complete disbelief and fear.

“What is _wrong_ with you, Sylvain?” you whisper.

He cocks his head sideways in a way you used to find charming, and you can only prevent yourself from panicking again as he asks you that question with that storm clouding over his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were prey to a predator.

“What do you mean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hope I can end this well gamers.... :)


End file.
